


Because on the day the dance is over, I will be your song

by Ambros



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: (I already know I'm going to hell for shipping CrissColfer, A very small reaction to The Day The Dance Is Over, And a bit of melancholy, Because honestly, Fluff, M/M, SO, don't bother with telling me), honestly, set right after the end of Glee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 16:13:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambros/pseuds/Ambros
Summary: - They stay like that and Darren lets himself take everything in, the way Chris is relaxed in his arms, the way they are in love – so incredibly in love, so ordinarily in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my first language, so please do let me know if you see any mistakes. Hope you like this :* Let me know what you think, if you feel like it!

_Cleaning out the confetti, it's an empty room,  
Plastic cups in the corner,_

_Many times you have kept me higher up than I can reach,_

_But this time you're on my shoulder._

 

 

Organizing the party had been far more difficult than cleaning everything up is, but it doesn't make it any less tiresome.

Darren knows Chris is mentally cursing him, but he'll take it. He'll take any mood that isn't sadness and melancholy.

Plus, it _had_ been his idea to organize the party. Chris had simply risen an eyebrow, thrown his hands up and said: -I'll let you figure out who you're going to invite on your own.-

It hadn't been simple. He'd ended up inviting pretty much everyone. Needless to say, not everyone had shown up – someone pretending to be busy, someone being _actually_ busy.

It's fine. It's not like Darren had expected them all to show up. Less cleaning up, anyway.

The music is still playing and Chris is softly humming along, absentmindedly, as he picks up plastic cups and napkins and throws them in a huge black plastic bag. His hair is a mess on his forehead and he's changed into a pair of sweats because he couldn't stand his jeans any longer. He looks tired and soft around the edges. He looks beautiful.

The song ends and a different one begins, and Darren sees Chris shaking his head with a small smile before he even registers what they're listening to now – which is saying something since it's his acoustic recording of Teenage Dream.

(They'd been listening to _their songs_ , had started towards the end of the party when everyone was sitting haphazardly on the floor, and they'd tried guessing who'd sung what before the lyrics started. It'd been a bit sad and a bit comforting. Like something they'd done would still be there even if it was over.)

He gets Chris' reaction now.

He sets the broom against the wall because Chris isn't humming along anymore, he's just listening, has slowed down his cleaning process, and Darren wants to get to him before the thought of it being really over does, he touches his shoulder and says: -Come on,- holds out his hand when Chris just looks at him, clearly confused; he is still confused when he takes it – trusting Darren, always trusting Darren –, but Darren pulls until Chris is close, close enough that Darren feels lighter, close enough that he can press his forehead against Chris' shoulder and wrap his arms around his waist and let Chris figure out the rest.

Chris shakes his head, a bit fond and a bit exasperated: -We _need_ to clean up this mess now or we'll never sleep,- he says, his arms limp and awkward on Darren's shoulders.

Darren says: -I'll clean everything up myself if you let me have this dance,- his words muffled by Chris' shirt.

He feels Chris' chest expand as he takes a deep breath. He knows he's won. Chris is a sucker for romance.

Chris drapes his arms around Darren's neck, his wrists crossed behind Darren's head; he only hesitates for a second before he rests his forehead against Darren's temple.

Darren smiles.

Chris says: -Shut up-, no heat behind the words.

Darren's smile turns fond and he moves impossibly closer, bringing his feet as close to Chris' as possible, and he sways standing in place, forces Chris to move with him, and it's not as weird as it could be since he's listening to himself.

Chris says: -I can't believe Harry Freakin' Potter is dancing with me,- completely deadpan, and Darren snorts, buries his smile in Chris' shirt. And then Chris says: -Darren, though – Darren, I can believe. I think he's a lot better too.-

Darren tightens his grip around his waist: -Yeah, Harry sucks at dancing.-

Chris places a small kiss in his hair, murmurs: -Not all I meant.-

Darren says: -Yeah, I know.-, tilting his head up because his neck is hurting a bit; he keeps his eyes closed and _just one touch, now baby I believe, this is real._

They stay like that and Darren lets himself take everything in, the way Chris is relaxed in his arms, the way they are in love – so incredibly in love, so ordinarily in love.

-There's no more music,- Chris whispers, and Darren keeps his eyes closed: -Just tell me what you want to listen to, I'll sing,- and Chris chuckles, not all happiness, lets his fingers drift through Darren's curls: -Nah, it's all right,- and then, smaller: -We're going to be all right.-

It's not a question, but Darren answers with a kiss on the corner of his lips.

They're going to be all right.

 

_And while there’s something to talk about, and while there’s something to say,_

_I promise you that I won’t be gone,_

_O_ _n the day the dance is over_

_I will be your song,_

_K_ _eep holding on_

_B_ _ecause on the day that the dance is over_

_I will be your song._


End file.
